


Wilted

by mumsywrites



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Job, F/M, Fellatio, Frottage, Hallucinations, Kids, M/M, NSFW, Polyamory, Post-Game, Post-War, Sad, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, bloody npc death, hints of dimilix, lots of Felix being sad, most likely verdant wind route based, polyam fam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23578912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumsywrites/pseuds/mumsywrites
Summary: With no King to serve, Felix spends his days hunting foes and collection coin, building up a reputation as a fearsome mercenary. With the occasional stop to listen to the dulcet tones of Dorothea's haunting voice, Felix is able to take a break from the haunts of his past. But years pass, and one such encounter leads to a moment that could change Felix's life, and bring back a sense of purpose he desperately craves.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dorothea Arnault/Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dorothea Arnault/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 18
Kudos: 50





	1. Two Years After the War...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...no matter how far he traveled, he always found himself drawn back to that opera house..."

It always came in flashes at first; white foggy mist interrupted by a glimpse of bright red hair, followed by flowing blonde. The mist would then clear with the sound of heavy breaths, of pleasurable moans. But it would never clear completely, and he could never truly make out what was going on, but he could always feel it. And he knew who they were; that’s what stung the most. Sylvain was always in front of him, down on his knees, looking up with a devilish smirk, hands gripping Felix’s thighs. Dimitri was always behind, his arms wrapped around Felix’s chest, his mouth on his neck so his hair just barely grazed Felix’s shivering skin.

And then it would stop, and the haze would turn dark. 

And he would be awake.

Because of course it would happen in a dream. The corpse of the boar had long since decayed. He could only see him in hazy dreams.

Those dreams never left Felix in a good state, and they often happened after the worst of a skirmish. He was good, had been the best swordsman at the academy, but when fighting off a dozen thieves, sometimes he’d barely make it out. But he always won. And once he collected his coin from the client, he would wander off and pass out against a tree or a tavern, never inside. He couldn’t stand the sight of people enjoying themselves.

He tried to blink out the visions, but the fake warmth he felt on his back was just that; fake, artificial. He groaned and stood up from his post, steadying himself with his sword pierced into the dirt, a bad habit that grew on him after the war.

He wandered out of the woods and onto the winding road outside a village. Several townsfolk were taken aback by his sudden appearance, and an old man standing beside a mule seemed to have lost all color in his face when Felix lumbered towards him. Perhaps it was his haggard appearance, or the sword unsheathed; he knew there were already tales and rumors about him floating around Fódlan.

“You,” he said, pointing to the old man before he decided to sheath his sword. “What’s the nearest city?”

The old man shivered, his hands gripped tight on the rope tied to the mule. “En…enbarr,” he said, swallowing hard.

_Enbarr…_

“Which direction?”

The old man pointed eastward down the road and Felix walked off with a simple nod.

\---

Night had fallen by the time Felix made it into the city, one he had grown more accustomed to in the past few years after the war, after the city’s streets became a battleground. He kept his eyes open for the opera house and followed the bright lights to the main square. Banners were flying and posters around the building told Felix that she was performing that night; Dorothea. He walked towards the doors, barely noticing that the lack of a crowd; that should have told him the performance of the evening had already started.

He stumbled into the foyer of the building and was nearly apprehended by some of the guards before a short man walked from the box office window.  
“No need to worry, thank you,” he said, waving them off.

Felix glared at them and walked up the stairs that lead to the balcony seats. “Master Fraldarius,” the box office man called from behind. “You haven’t missed her yet!”

Felix merely waved and pushed open the first set of doors to his left as he came upon the landing.

She had saved this seat for him, the mid-level private balcony with the greatest view ahead towards the stage. She would have struggled to reserve this spot in her earlier years with the opera company, but being a war hero had granted her exclusive benefits. And so she reserved the balcony for the rare occasion when Felix decided to drop by.

He slid down into his seat and propped his feet on the balcony railing. He kept his sword close, even though he knew he wouldn’t need it.

The tenor on stage was blabbering about some nonsense; war and love or whatever. He leaned back in his seat, waiting.

When the tenor’s aria had finished, Dorothea appeared on stage, the lights finding her before she could find them. 

Felix immediately straightened up and closed his eyes when she began to sing. Her voice brought a kind of clearness to his mind that he hadn’t felt in years, not since he was a young boy. He saw the young, doe-eyed prince and a mischievous Sylvain, with Ingrid trailing behind, ready to get them out of whatever trouble they were sure to cause. He saw Glenn, sparring with a younger Felix; he was always ready to challenge his younger brother, but not unjustly. Felix had to learn something about the craft of the sword. He saw bitter winters that led to chilly springs and mild summers; the time he missed most. The time he could only visit when Dorothea sang.

He opened his eyes and truly saw her, her body draped in a golden gown, trimmed with gems that sparkled in the spotlight. He wasn’t really paying attention to the plot of the show, or even what she was singing about, but he found comfort in her melodies nonetheless.

Throughout the show, Dorothea appeared in several different outfits to sing several haunting arias before the finale, where her character collapsed in the arms of the tenor from before, the sword he had been gripping cast aside so he could cradle her.

With that, the show was over, and Felix left the balcony before the curtain call could even begin. He snaked through the hallways of the opera house, knowing exactly where to go. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect; he met with Dorothea, still in costume, at the threshold of her dressing room door.

“Well,” she said, a sly smirk on her heavily painted lips. “Nice of you to show up.” She opened the door with a flick of her wrist and walked right towards her vanity, reaching for different vials of whatever.

“I was fortunate to be so close to Enbarr,” he said, following her in and closing the door behind him.

“Do make yourself comfortable,” she said, vaguely gesturing to the loveseat against the opposite wall.

He stumbled over and dropped his sword to the floor before collapsing onto the couch. He leaned back his head and closed his eyes; the haze was returning.  
“Did you enjoy the performance?”

“Uhn,” he grunted. “Can’t say I paid much attention to the plot, but your parts were…”

“Yes?”

He opened his eyes. She was standing above him, her sleeves slipping down her arms, the collar of her dress just shy of revealing the entirety of her chest. He reached out, one hand at the back of her neck, the other at her hip, and pulled her in. 

She followed his touch, her dress slipping down her body and falling to the floor. She was perched over him, completely naked, her face still painted like a porcelain doll.

Her skin was soft and warm in his hands, a feeling now foreign to him. Her lips reached his and Felix almost consumed her; she brought a rare sense of clarity to him, in her voice, her body, her touch, and he was starved for it.

She pressed her body close to his and he held her tight, desperate not to let go. He dug his fingers into the soft curves of her back as she nibbled and bit at his lips, sliding her tongue up against his.

Her hands slipped to his pants and in one motion released his erection, so quick to happen in these times. She laughed and flicked her hair back over he shoulder. “It’s always the same with you, Felix. Are you always this touch starved?”

He groaned and pulled her back in for a kiss. She laughed into his mouth and began to stroke him, sending a shiver down his spine.

Yeah, he was. And he ate up every bit of flesh on her neck, collar bone, upper chest to stop himself from having to voice his confirmation.

Her moans had a lilt in them that only made him shudder and she continued to run her hand up and down his cock. 

He swallowed hard and looked into her eyes, a move he immediately regretting when he saw the pity within them. He grabbed the back of her head and brought her in for a more forceful kiss, anything to end that look.

His other hand slipped between her legs. She was already wet and he smirked in the kiss as two of his fingers slipped inside, his thumb just hovering over her clit.  
She smiled back and moved to nibble his ear lobe. “I’m waiting…”

She moved her hips forward and hovered herself above his readied cock, his fingers probing and stretching. He let them slip out and she moved his cock inside of her and she slowly descended until he was all in. Both of their heads tilted back and Felix’s voice wavered as she so subtly squeezed around him.

His hand shivered but quickly resumed its work on her clit, rubbing back and forth and she started to move up and down along his cock.

Felix could feel the sweat build up under his clothes and he started pulling at his shirt with his free hand. Dorothea was quick to notice and helped him to unfasten every button and clasp until he was freed from the confines of his top. 

She smiled, still rocking on top of him, and traced a finger along every battle scar and memory of war that was etched upon his skin. “I remember some of these,” she said, leaning down to softly bite his collar bone.

His neck whirled and without hesitation, he grabbed both her thighs and stood up, slamming her back against the wall and thrusting deeply.

She cried out, one of her legs wrapping tightly around his back. She gripped him tightly as her back rolled up and down along the wall.

Felix could hardly contain himself; his continued to thrust, near his own breaking point, one hand against the wall, the other supporting Dorothea’s thigh. He dragged his tongue up against her neck and caught the scent of her hair. It was just want he needed and he stifled his cry against her flesh as he came inside her.  
Dorothea moaned and shuddered in his hold. “F-felix!”

In an instant his body relaxed. Dorothea began to slip but he caught her and held her close, looking into her wide eyes. He was thankful that the pity was gone from them this time. He stared too long, however, and she wiggled off his now flaccid cock and steadied herself on her own two feet.

“Felix, did you seriously just…”

The haze was returning. He grabbed a towel that was hanging from the back of her vanity chair and wiped himself clean, turning around to see Dorothea frantically drape on a robe. “You didn’t pull out, did you?”

He stared and the haze began to fade, just a bit. “What?”

She rolled her eyes and snagged the towel from his hands. “Normally you pull out, but today, you…”

He couldn’t make sense of her words. He closed his eyes and fell onto the loveseat, leaning his head back. The moments inside her cleared his mind, but now it was over, and the normal fogginess was coming in and out.

“Hey,” she said, now sitting next to him. “Are you alright?” She placed her hand on his knee, gently rubbing it. “You seem…more out of it than normal. And this is the longest it’s been since I’ve last seen you. A couple of months. How are you getting by?”

Her questions brought a pounding to his head. Felix stood up and grabbed his sweat drench top, pulling it back on and hastily fastening what he could. “I get by just fine,” he said, bending over to pick his sword up from the ground. 

“Felix, wait…”

He made for the door and stopped once his hand touched the doorknob. “Thank you…for the seat. You…”

She ran to him and kissed him, her hands gently cradling his chin. “You don’t have to leave so soon,” she said, tears starting to well. “I only just saw you again. Come back to my place, spend the night.”

Felix held her chin, his thumb sliding over the slight dimple and gave a small, sad smile. “Keep my seat open.”

He opened the door, turned down the hall, and left…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by several paired endings and conversations with Felix on Silver Snow/Verdant Wind routes. More to come, thank you for reading!


	2. Eight Years After the War...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...years laters, a sword that was thought to have belonged to Felix arrived at Sylvain's doorstep..."

“My Lord, the children have finally settled down to sleep.”

Sylvain gave a heavy sigh. He rubbed at the back of his neck, sore from all the shoulder rides his two youngest had requested that night. “Took them long enough. They get so restless when their mother is away.”

“They also miss the young master.”

Sylvain smiled sadly and shook his head. “He does like to spend time with his mother on these trips.” Stretching out his arms, Sylvain walked into his own bed chamber, ready to settle down for the night. It was a chore, being Margrave Gautier of the united Fódlan. He was effectively the highest ranking noble in the former Faerghus territories. Dimitri had fallen in battle those many years ago and Felix gave up his title as Duke just a year after the war, surrendering the Fraldarius territory to Sylvain. Thus, managing both the Fraldarius and Gautier territories fell into his responsibility, and it exhausted him. 

“Daddy needs to sleep now,” he groaned, falling face first into his pillow. He hadn’t even changed out of his clothing, but sleep could take him in that moment if it pleased. He did not care.

“My Lord!”

He grunted and turned to find one of his servants at the door, his eyes wide and face drained of color. 

Sylvain stood immediately and walked towards him, his brow furrowed in concern. “Is everything alright?”

“The gates,” he responded, shaking. “At the front gates, there’s a sword. And blood. So much blood.”

A sword. It could only be…

“The front gates you said?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Sylvain stormed through the halls. He pushed aside servants and monks, tending to their nightly chores until he made it to the front gates of the castle. He threw open the doors with both hands and upon the threshold sat a familiar sword, its blade and hilt covered in blood.

“Felix,” he whispered. He spotted a trail of blood leading from the sword out towards the stables. He turned to a young monk behind him. “I need you to come with me, but do not utter a word of what you see. Do you understand?”

The monk meekly nodded and the two headed straight for the stables.

They followed the slick trail, glistening in the moonlight, until they came upon an empty stall, or at least one that should have been empty. Sylvain looked back at the monk, motioning him to stand back.

He pushed open the stall door and there, upon a bail of hay, sat Felix, a deep gash in his leg and a small pool of blooding forming below it.

“Way to make yourself known,” Sylvain said, leaning against the wood of the stall.

Felix’s breath was heavy, but he was able to grimace at Sylvain’s comment. “I didn’t…want you t-to find me…”

“Yeah, and leaving a sword covered in blood at my doorstep made it so difficult. Felix, it’s been seven years!”

Sylvain nearly forgot the monk standing behind him and looked at his wide eyes. Shouldn’t have said his name. He lowered his head and sighed.“Look, can you heal him real quick? And don’t say a word about this to anyone. Alright?”

The monk nodded and sheepishly walked towards Felix, bending down to give a quick heal to his wound. He hovered his shaking hands over the gash and slowly, the wound closed up, and the drips of blood eventually stopped.

“This should at least stop the bleeding but…”

“That’s all I need,” Felix snapped.

“Still quite the charmer,” Sylvain said, shaking his head. “Thank you, you’re dismissed.”

The monk bowed and stood up, running out of the stables, nearly tripping on his way out.

“So what brings you here,” Sylvain said, sitting beside him and brushing the matted strings of hair off Felix’s sweaty brow. _Cold. Is he sick?_

Felix flinched at his touch at first, but eventually leaned in, his eyes closing and his breathing growing steady. Sylvain smiled at the uneven stubble on his chin; his last shave must have been a quick one.

“Band of thieves, just south of here. My client needed them gone. Thought there’d be ten. Turns out there were close to twenty. Got them all, but not without…”  
“Yeah, seems they got you good.”

Felix sighed and glared into Sylvain’s eyes. He held his stare for moments before turning away. “Your sideburns look stupid.”

Sylvain laughed and gently scratched at where his jaw and sideburns met. “Yeah, well, my wife likes them. That’s all that really matters.”

“Wife?” Felix’s voice cracked, his eyes widening. 

“Too bad I got rid of the beard, though. The kids complained about ‘Daddy’s scratchy kisses’.”

“Kids…” Felix’s voice trailed off, taking in the passage of time.

“Yeah, Fe, I have a family now.”

Felix scoffed but his voice was soft, almost sad. “I always thought you didn’t want a family.”

“I didn’t want a family if it meant I was only wanted for my crest,” Sylvain said quickly; it felt like such a rehearsed line. “Thankfully, we no longer live in a word like that. And we’re the ones to thank for that…”

“I…I just…”

Sylvain ran a finger under Felix’s chin and laughed again at the little bits of stubble. “A lot can happen in seven years, Fe…”

“I didn’t even realize it’s been that long. Seems like a lifetime…”

“Yeah,” Sylvain said, staring into eyes that weren’t fully with him. He sighed, wishing to have fought harder for Felix to keep his title. He leaned in close, his forehead nearly touching Felix’s. He closed his eyes, desperate to commit Felix’s scent to memory; he wouldn’t forget after this time.

Sylvain broke the moment with a chuckle, smiling proudly. “I’ll have you know none of my kids inherited my crest.”

Felix rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall, his cheeks flushed against his gaunt skin. “Well, I’m glad you got everything you wanted.”

“Not everything…”

Sylvain’s finger returned under Felix’s chin and tilting it up. He guided Felix’s lips towards his, locking them into a desperate and hungry kiss. Sylvain groaned, his heart beating faster at the memory of Felix’s taste. He ran his tongue delicately between Felix’s lips, and the moment they parted, he consumed all he could  
Felix pulled back and swallowed hard. His chest heaved, probably split between the pain in his leg and the moment at hand. “Sylvain, you just said that you’re married…you…”

“You’re right, I am. Happily, even. My wife is all the woman I’ll ever need.”

“Then how come you’re…”

“When was the last time you were with another person?” Sylvain asked, his hand moving down Felix’s neck. “In any capacity? When was the last time you were held, when you were…”

“Don’t dodge my question!”

It took all of Sylvain’s energy to hold back his tears. Was Felix truly this thick headed? “I love you, Felix. Always have. You know that.” 

“You’re a fool,” Felix said, his hands reaching to the back of Sylvain’s head and dragging him down for another kiss; messy, wet, desperate. He nearly missed Sylvain’s mouth at first, but he found his target eventually, and ate up everything he could.

Sylvain smirked and minding the injured leg, maneuvered himself between Felix’s legs. He cupped his groin and felt just how starved for human touch Felix had become. He laughed and pulled back.

“You missed me that much, huh?”

A fog had seemed to fill Felix’s eyes, as if the moment were taking him elsewhere. With his free hand, Sylvain stroked Felix’s cheek, watching how he leaned into the touch with so much force, so much pressure.

“Y-yeah,” Felix said through ragged breaths.

Sylvain smiled sadly; he was expecting a biting retort, not this desperation. Not that he minded entirely, but so much of Felix had changed in these past few years. What was pulling him back? Where was his mind? He leaned his forehead against Felix’s, letting the cold sweat wet his brow. “I did too,” he whispered, his hand reaching into Felix’s pants and grabbing hold of his erection. 

Felix’s voice shuddered in a gasp, his head slipping down to rest on Sylvain’s shoulder. His shaking fingers dug into Sylvain’s shirt, grasping for anything to stabilize him.

Sylvain nodding and with the lightest touch, ran his fingers along the length of Felix’s cock. He knew he shouldn’t have teased, but he wanted Felix to savor each moment, every touch. Goddess knew when they would cross paths again. He nuzzled close into Felix’s ear, gently biting and pulling at his lobe before whispering, “I want you, so badly, Fe…”

“P-please,” Felix cried out, pulling harder at the fabric at Sylvain’s chest. His voice never sounded like that, begging with everything he had.

Nodding, Sylvain grabbed hold and ran his hand up and down with more rhythm, more speed, but he could only continue this for so long before his own cock needed attention. Before Felix could have the chance to burst, Sylvain grabbed each boot, one by one, and slipped them off Felix’s feet, reaching back up to tear off his pants and stare at those milky white legs once again. They hadn’t changed, save for a few scars, including the fresh one from that night; each muscle twitched exactly as he remembered. He smiled, and bushed Felix back against the hay, eager to taste him once again. He leaned down and nudged Felix’s cock with nose.  
Felix took in a sharp breath, his hands groping around his for something to brace him; hay just wouldn’t be enough.

Sylvain smiled and placed a small kiss at the base of his cock; he’d return to that in a moment, he wanted to eat up those thighs first. Sylvain bit at the pale, tender flesh inside Felix’s thigh, and just as he had hoped, Felix tasted just the sweet as the last time. Sylvain could feel his heart flutter at reviving that memory; how he wished for this moment to last.

With one hand gently cradling Felix’s balls, his other explored some of the new scars that littered those legs he loved so much. He’d trace a white line, then place a kiss on it, then move to the next. When he came upon the new scar, still pink and sore, Felix grimaced.

“Don’t,” he said, his dark eyes narrowing like they used to.

“I’m just checking up on it is all,” Sylvain said smirking, kissing the skin just beside the scar. “I want to take care of you, Felix, that’s all.”

“I’m fine on my own,” he spat, diverting his gaze.

Shaking his head, Sylvain turned back to Felix’s cock. “Sure you are,” he said, before enveloping the tip with his lips and tongue.

Felix’s hands found Sylvain’s hair and he pulled, hard. But Sylvain wanted that, craved that, and slipped his mouth deeper over Felix’s dick, running his tongue along his shaft, tasting the sweet saltiness.

“Hng, S-sylvain,” Felix’s voice begged, calling for more, but Sylvain had neglected himself for too long. As he bobbed his head up and down, he released his own erection from his pants, shakily jerking off to the sound of Felix’s moans. 

Felix’s legs twitched and writhed at Sylvain’s side, his fingers grasping at hair, skin, whatever. “I…I’m…”

Sylvain slipped his mouth off Felix’s cock, nodding. “Yeah, me too,” he said, shaking Felix’s hands off his head, climbing up to silence him with a kiss. It was messy, it was desperate, it was everything Sylvain wanted and more as he pressed his cock up against Felix’s and rubbed up and down his length. His hand grasped both and eventually, Felix’s hand joined as well.

Spittle dripped down Felix’s chin, gasping for breath as he stared into Sylvain’s eyes. Sylvain knew that look; Felix was at his limit, but he wasn’t alone. Together, the two men grinded into each other, fingers lacing as the held onto each other, and in moments they both came, the warmth spilling over their hands. 

Felix fell back onto the hay bails, his ragged breathing showing how his body was no longer accustomed to such a performance, but Sylvain took it all in. He was a beautiful mess.

Smiling, Sylvain licked his fingers clean and nestled his body beside Felix. He listened to his breaths as they slowed and eased. “You know,” he said, after moments of silent breathing, “we probably shouldn’t stay here.”

Felix grunted and turned away from Sylvain. “You want me to go inside?”

“Of course.”

“I can’t go do that, not with your wife and…” Felix stopped and curled into a ball. He couldn’t even say the rest.

Sylvain sighed and turned his eyes to the ceiling of the barn. “It’s just your luck; my wife’s away right now. And the kids would love to meet you.”

Felix gave what Sylvain could only guess was a laugh, but it sounded so foreign to him. “I still can’t imagine you with kids…” 

“Can’t imagine you with one, either. But time makes fools of us all.”

The air grew thick with silence. Felix turned back to Sylvain, his brow furrowed, his eyes wide.

“What…are you talking about?”

Sylvain kept his composure. He had to share the news somehow.

“You’ve got a kid, Fe.”

He sat up, his breath speeding up again. “What do you mean? I don’t…”

“Yeah. You do.”

Felix’s grabbed his head, his hands shaking strands of hair out of the short ponytail at the back of his head. “Wh-what?”

“Congratulations, you’re a father,” Sylvain said, never thinking he’d be the one delivering this type of news to anyone.

Felix shook his head, his eyes were darting everywhere, not looking at Sylvain. “I…I can’t, that’s…who…?”

“Dorothea.”

With the mention of her name, it seemed to click. Felix’s body deflated as he settled back onto the hay. “Dorothea…”

Sylvain sighed. “Saw her a while back, she told me herself. Hell, I’ve seen the kid, and there’s no denying it, Felix. He’s your son.”

“Son…”

Sylvain sat up and ran his finger through Felix’s hair, letting thin dark strands glide over his skin. “Yes. A son.”

Moments passed before Felix looked up into his eyes.

“I didn’t know…”

Sylvain scoffed. “How would you? You’re off doing Goddess knows what, fighting hordes of rogues and thieves. But now that I’ve got you, yeah, you’ve got a son.”

Felix closed his eyes and rested his head on Sylvain’s chest. “How…how old is he?”

Smiling, Sylvain undid the tie holding Felix’s hair up and ran his fingers through his hair, cut as unevenly as his facial hair. “You can find that out for yourself, Fe.”

“How?”

Sylvain rolled his eyes, but still held Felix close. He could not guarantee this moment would last. “Pay her a visit. I think she’s got a show opening up in a few weeks.”

“You…see her that often?”

Sylvain smirked, feeling Felix’s breath slow into sleep. “You know how much I love the opera.”

Felix gave a grunt of acknowledgement. Moments of calm passed and Felix had slipped soundly into sleep.

“So soon after receiving such news?” Sylvain laughed and closed his eyes. Perhaps the stables would suffice for the night.

\---

The morning chill woke Sylvain from sleep, but there was nothing to comfort, no warmth. He groaned and opened his eyes, spotting nothing beside him. Felix had left in the night, perhaps he took the sword back, too. And the only proof he left that he was ever there was the dark brown stain of blood on the ground. Sylvain sighed and hoped soon, he would see him again. 

Maybe Felix would take the bait and visit Dorothea at the opera house…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience. I really struggled getting this chapter out, and while I'm not completely satisfied with it, the longer I let it sit, the more dust this fic gathers. Please stay tuned! Thank you again.


	3. Eight Years After the War... (Enbarr)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tales of...bravery endured for generations, thanks in no small part to the operas that Dorothea wrote and composed herself."

_“…there’s no denying it, Felix. He’s your son…”_

The words echoed in his head, throbbing against his skull and causing him to collapse to the ground. His sword clattered against a tree as he tried to steady himself against it. “A son…” 

Repeating the words never served as a therapy, it only made the pain worse, and only caused his visions to be more vivid.

 _ **“A son, Felix! You have a son, that’s wonderful…”**_ The boar’s voice always faded in and out, his face behind a haze, but he was clearer now, and Felix’s head pounded harder as his smile broke from the fog. 

“Go away…” He cried, his hand slipping against the bark, his body collapsing. His knee hit a rock on his way down and the pain shot up his leg. He screamed, completely losing his balance and falling face first into the dirt.

_“Congratulations, you’re a father…”_

Sylvain’s voice rang in his ear, that night still fresh in his mind. The way his large hands held him, groped him. He shivered, remembering the sensation of his mouth on his ear, on his thigh, on his…

He groaned and pushed his body up against the ground, steadying himself on his feet. He closed his eyes, breathed in deep, and started walking. He still had a bit of a limp from the injury; it should have completely healed by now, it had already been several weeks.

Or had it been? Keeping track of the time was so difficult…

_“How…how old is he?”_

When did he see Dorothea last? When did their last encounter happen? He…couldn’t remember her face anymore, nor her voice…her voice. His chest grew tight and he clutched at his shirt. Her voice was always the medicine he needed, the escape he desperately craved from whatever life he was currently living.

_“Pay her a visit. I think she’s got a show opening up in a few weeks…”_

The Opera House. Enbarr…

Could he face her again? Could he face his son? A child…he had a child…

 _ **“You’re a father, Felix,”**_ Dimitri’s voice, still clear, whispered in his ear, almost like a soft breeze against his cheek. _**“I’m so happy for you…”**_

He swatted at his ears, shooing him away. He wasn’t there, he was dead. Long dead…

“Are you alright, sir?”

A young man had approached him on the road, but Felix was used to that. Ignore him, keep walking past. That’s what he always did.

“Sir, you’re limping. Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he grumbled, but the young man did not accept that. His arm darted in front of Felix, stopping him in his tracks.

“Far from it,” he said with a laugh. “Stop in for a quick bite, on me. It’s the least I can do.”

A quick bite…food…

Felix suddenly became aware of his surroundings. How did he not realize that he ended up in front of tavern. He was nearly on the threshold. This man wasn’t standing in the street, either, he was in the doorframe. A hot meal…the smell of spicy stew. He closed his eyes, slowly took in the smokey smell of meat, and let his stomach speak for him. 

“Thanks,” he said, stepping inside. He had even forgotten the last time he had eaten…

The stew had been enough to revive Felix. He didn’t have words to thank the man, but he didn’t seem to need it. He was even willing to direct Felix towards Enbarr. 

“Still a ways away, perhaps a week’s journey…”

A week…could he make it? 

\--- 

As per usual, Felix did not keep track of the days. He eventually made it to Enbarr, early enough in the evening so that the city was still bustling with excitement. The voices on the street seemed to only be speaking of the Opera House. Apparently, quite the show would be on stage that night; a full retelling of the War for Fòdlan, starring none other than Dorothea…

“Such a shame this will be her last performance in Enbarr…”

“Oh, but she’ll have a new Opera Company to perform in. She built it with her husband!”

“How exciting, I hope I can make the journey…”

Husband? She had married as well? How did he treat her son, her child with Felix? Was he shunned? Or embraced? 

“Too bad it’s closing this weekend. Though I hear she’ll be in Enbarr for sometime before she returns up North…”

North?

Felix shook his head and continued towards the Opera House. He didn’t usually see this many people when he hobbled into the foyer, but it had been years…

“Master Fraldarius!”

Why was that voice familiar?

“It’s been so long! Please, this way, we still keep the box seat saved for you…”

The young usher nearly grabbed Felix’s arm, dragging him towards the reserved balcony. Did it always sit empty? Were they that willing to lose ticket sales to save a seat for him?

“This is quite the show, you will thoroughly enjoy it…”

He nodded and turned his head to thank the usher, but he had disappeared. Glancing out towards the rest of the theatre, he could see crowds of people, filling in seats. There was an energetic buzz that filled the room, and Felix could not have felt more out of place. 

“How exciting,” a voice said in the balcony beside his. An elderly couple situated themselves in their seats, the woman fanning herself with her program. “I do hope the Margravine is performing tonight. Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve seen her on stage…”

“I do believe she’s starring in it, dear.”

“Oh, look here! She even wrote this one!”

“We best enjoy it while we can. Fhirdiad is too far and too cold for these old bones…”

The Margravine? Fhirdiad? 

Felix gripped the edge of the balcony and looked around. More people were filing it, more voices in the box seats around him were chatting about the performance.

A voice below had shouted, “Look! The Margrave is with the children!”

Who…?

Felix turned his head towards a balcony box at the upper level and there was Sylvain, two children in his arms, climbing every inch of his body.

“I do love when he brings the children. They’re so good when their mother is performing…”

He noticed another small body, sitting in a seat beside Sylvain, with dark hair, pulled back in a short ponytail. His eyes grew wide…

“Of course! They get so excited to see their mother. And the young master, Xavier…”

“Hard to believe he’s just five years old. Such an appreciation for the opera…”

“…well, when your mother owns the opera house, it’s hard not to…”

His head was spinning. He couldn’t piece it together.

Blinking to fight back his headache, he noticed that Sylvain was waving down at him, the two children in his arms wildly mimicking him. The dark haired boy sat beside him, with eyes bright green, simply staring. Sylvain leaned over and whispered into the boy’s ear, and with a quick nod, the boy ran out the back door of the balcony.

Sylvain narrowed his eyes at Felix and smirked…

After several moments, the door to Felix’s balcony creaked open. “Papa?” Felix jolted in his seat and turned his head. There was the boy, an image he had seen in mirrors as a child, save for those eyes. His smile was meek, his hands wringing in front of him. “Daddy said I could sit with you…”

Daddy…?

He looked back up at Sylvain, who was nodding, as if he could hear the conversation over the din of the audience.

“May I?” The boy climbed onto the seat beside Felix and looked up with a bright smile. “Mommy worked real hard on this opera. You’re going to love it!”

_“A son…”_

_“…my wife’s away right now…”_

The seats below were filled to the brim, all the balconies full with guests, and the lights dimmed on and off, signaling the start of the performance. But Felix couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink.

The boy had placed a program in Felix’s hands. “I noticed you didn’t have one,” he whispered as the orchestra began to tune.

It almost fell out of his hands, they were shaking so hard, but he opened it to the cast list, and just before the house lights turned down completely, he read her name…

“Margravine Dorothea Gautier…”

Sylvain’s wife…Dorothea…

He chanced one more glance up towards Sylvain, but his attention was fully on the stage.

“Papa, it’s starting!!” The boy tugged at Felix’s sleeve and pointed towards the stage.

The red curtains opened, revealing Dorothea, center stage. The crowd cheered in uproarious applause, and she soaked it in. They managed to settle down and after beats of silence, the violins began and she took her cue to sing…

Her voice washed right over him. Yes, now he could remember. He closed his eyes and let her vibrato shake him to his core. That was, until, the boy grabbed his hand.

“Mommy’s voice is so beautiful.”

Felix swallowed hard and looked over at him. Did he have tears streaming down his cheeks? He turned back to see the scene unfold behind her, as stagehands moved set pieces around and the ensemble gathered behind her, joining in on her song, one by one. She ended the opening number with a solo line, and throughout it all, she stared right at Felix. And then, it went to a blackout.

The audience cheered and the show continued. It was an odd retelling of the war, battles reenacted with dances and arias, and a sad piece devoted to a baritone dressed in black and blue; an ode to Dimitri…

Not a single name was taken from the recent history, all fictional tellings of the war at hand. Even the battle scene in Enbarr, the one against Edelgard, was completely different from how it actually unfolded. 

It ended on a bittersweet note, one of reconstruction, of rebirth, but Dorothea ended the show, standing amidst the rubble, belting out a final note, a final hope for Fòdlan, and when the lights went out, the crowd held their breath before cheering.

It was…a fantasy. All of it.

The young boy beside him stood up on the chair, clapping his hands excitedly. “Mommy worked so hard on this opera, Papa, did you like it?”

The lights illuminated the stage once more for the curtain call, and when Dorothea appeared, she addressed the crowd.

“Thank you,” she said, to eager ears, “for your continued support these past few years. I couldn’t have built this career without all of you. And sadly, my final performance at Mittelfrank is but two nights away.”

Applause and tears met her words, but with a raised hand, she silenced them all. “I know Fhirdiad is far, but I hope to see some of your faces at the new Opera House. My husband has been hard at work, prepping it for opening next season. Thank you, my love,” she said, looking up towards Sylvain.

He gave a small roll of his eyes, but smiled nonetheless at the attention. He gave a small wave before motioning back to Dorothea.

“Good night, my friends,” she said, grabbing the hands of her cast and joining them for one last group bow, and then the curtains closed.

The boy giggled and jumped at his seat. “Wasn’t that wonderful? I like the lost prince aria the best. Daddy says the three of you grew up together with Auntie Ingrid, is that true?! Oh, and the sword fights! I’m gonna help make those when I’m older, it’s my favorite part of the shows,” he said, his small body shaking. “What was your favorite part, Papa?”

“Alright, Xavier, settle down. Papa’s got a lot to take in right now.” Sylvain’s voice appeared from behind and Felix’s head turned, glaring right into his eyes.  
“Daddy!!” The boy leapt from the seat and into Sylvain’s free hands, the two smaller children each holding onto a leg.

Sylvain’s smile was warm as he held the boy tight, rubbing his nose up against Xavier’s. He turned his head to Felix and gave him a devilish smirk, one he had used thousands of times before. “Nice of you to show up,” he said, balancing the boy in his arms.

“You…you didn’t say…”

“Not the right place, let’s go up to the flat, shall we?”

“The flat?”

Sylvain nodded and put Xavier down. The children ran, laughing and giggling out of the balcony and back towards one of the backstage doors.

“Yeah, we have a flat in the opera house. Customary when you own part of the building.”

“Own?”

“All thanks to you,” Sylvain said, following the children through the door and up an iron, spiral staircase.

“Me?”

He nodded, and grabbed his youngest child who was struggling to climb the stairs. “You left me everything when you relinquished your title, Felix. With funds like that, I can spend some on owning part of the Mittelfrank Opera House. Right Yvi?” 

The young girl laughed, her auburn curls bouncing, and wrapped her small, chubby arms around Sylvain’s neck.

“Dadda, Dadda!!”

He joined in with her laughter and planted a big kiss on the side of her head. 

Sylvain truly had embraced being a father; Felix couldn’t remember a time when he smiled so wide, so brightly. They reached the top of the stairs and came upon an embellished set of double doors, with one of them already open. Inside, the two young boys were chasing each other and jumping from furniture.

“Alright, boys, settle down!”

“Papa’s here, Daddy!” The younger boy with dark red hair pointed right at Felix, his hazel eyes wide. “It’s Papa!!”

“Yes, Theo, that’s Papa,” Sylvain nodded, ushering Felix into the large living room and shutting the door behind them. He placed Yvi down on the ground and she hobbled over to her two brothers, who happily scooped her up in their arms.

It felt wrong, standing in such an ornately decorated room, the three children playing and laughing. He felt like an invader. He didn’t belong…

“They’ve been losing it since they first saw you,” he said softly. “Had to dry some tears when I let Xavier go down to sit with you, but you know…”

“Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour?”

Felix turned. Dorothea stood at the double doors, her elegant dress hugging every curve of her body. She looked just as lovely as before, and her body betrayed the fact that she mothered three children.

“Mommy!!” Xavier ran towards her and hugged her legs. “Papa! It’s Papa! He’s really here!”

Dorothea smiled, and picked the boy up in her arms. “Yes, Xavier. That’s your Papa…”

The two pairs of green eyes looked right into Felix. While the boy’s were filled with wonder and excitement, Dorothea held a gaze of disappointment.

“Wonderful performance tonight, my love,” Sylvain said, swooping in to hold them both and kiss her on her cheek. 

Dorothea blushed and leaned into Sylain’s hold. “Thank you, dear.”

The two of them stood there, arm in arm, holding the child, an almost perfect copy of Felix’s younger self. The other two came running from behind and pulled at their parents’ clothes. Seeing them all together, there was no denying Sylvain fathered the younger two. But Xavier had called him Daddy…

“You…you raised him?”

Sylvain sighed and kissed the top of Xavier’s head before walking over to Felix. “Kiddos, I think it’s bedtime.”

The children groaned in disapproval, but Dorothea laughed, placing her eldest on the ground. “Daddy’s right. Opera nights always end late, so off to bed.”

“But we just got to meet Papa!” Xavier’s pout was pronounced.

“Yeah, and Xavier hogged all the Papa time earlier,” Theo said, stomping on the ground.

“There will be plenty of Papa time in the morning,” Dorothea said, ushering her children to their room.

Sylvain grabbed Felix’s shoulder and dug his fingers in deep. “There better be,” he whispered. “I’m still upset about you leaving me alone in the stables last time I saw you.”

“Sylvain, dear, why don’t you let Felix use the bath? I made sure to have one of the servants heat the water up during the performance.”

“Excellent idea,” Sylvain said, wrapping his arm around Felix’s shoulders and walking him towards the bath. “You look like you could use one.”

“Sy-sylvain!”

As the children cheered down the hall, Sylvain nearly shoved Felix into the bath and shut the door behind him, but not before taking his sword from him. “What are you…”

“I’m glad you came,” he said, clearly not listening. “I can lend you some clothes. We’ll get those cleaned up for you by the morning, but seriously, you should get in the bath. You’re a mess.”

“How come you didn’t tell me Dorothea is your wife?!”

Sylvain tilted his head and gave a look that pierced deeper than any lance. “You’re the one who knocked her up and didn’t return for nearly six years.”

“That’s…I didn’t know…”

“Not an excuse,” he said, sitting at the edge of the bath. “I reserve every right to withhold information from you.”

He had a point, but Felix would die before he would admit it. “He…he calls you Daddy…”

Sylvain smiled, his eyes to the floor. “Well, yeah, Fe, I’m his dad, that’s why.”

“No, you’re not, you just said…”

“I raised him,” he spat, a hint of anger in his voice. “As far as he’s concerned, he has three parents and has spent the last five years waiting for one of them to show up.”

He didn’t know, how could he have known? “The others…call me Papa as well…”

Laughing, Sylvain simply nodded. “We figured it would only let him stand out more, so yeah, all the kids think they have three parents. But he knows you’re his father. He sees both of us, he knows he doesn’t look like me…” Sylvain choked up at that moment. He paused, took in a breath, and looked up. There were tears in the corner of his eyes. “I tell him stories all the time. He idolizes you, he wanted to meet you so you could teach him how to use a sword…”

“Stop…”

“He knows all about his uncle Glenn, all about Dimitri, about the stupid shit we did as kids…”

“Sylvain, stop…”

“He wants you to be part of his life, Felix, he…”

“I SAID STOP!”

The glare returned. “No,” he said, his voice low. It sent a shiver down Felix’s spine; he only ever sounded like that on the battlefield. “I owe it to my son to have you in his life. Don’t take that away from us. Not from him, not from Dorothea…not from me…”

Six years…so much had changed? And yet…

Sylvain shook his head and stood up. “Toss your clothes in the basket over there, I’ll bring over a tunic for you to wear to bed. You’re staying for breakfast in the morning. We’re eating as a family.”

He shut the door, leaving Felix alone with the steam of the bath and the echo of his voice, still bouncing off the marble tile. His throat felt tight. “A family…”  
Resigned to his fate, Felix took off his clothes and threw them into a small wicker basket on the floor. He ran his hand through the bathwater; he expected it to be much hotter, but it was quite pleasant, the scent of lavender tickling his nose. He stepped in and sank deep into the water, slipping down so it lapped up against his chin. When was the last time he indulged in such a thing? Every aching joint was immediately relieved and he could feel the film of sweat and blood lift off him in the water. He could almost…

“Don’t fall asleep.”

He jolted up, water splashing over the side, and looked right up into Dorothea’s eyes. She smirked, the clothing basket resting on her hip.

“At least you’re enjoying yourself,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Thanks for coming…finally.”

“I…”

“Yes, you didn’t know. Honestly, you were so out of it the last time I saw you, no wonder you forgot to pull out.” As annoyed as she sounded, she still smiled. “But he’s a wonderful kid. I wouldn’t trade him for the world.”

Felix swallowed hard, but it was a struggle. Sitting up, he wanted to reach out to her. “When…when did Sylvain…”

“We married right before Xavier was born,”she said, almost reading his mind. “Despite his looks, Sylvain convincingly told everyone he was the father, of course he was. And he wasn’t lying. He’s an incredible father, you know.”

“Did he…know?”

“Of course he did. He was the first person I told.”

He always knew…

“Well, enjoy the rest of your bath. I trust Sylvain will have to fish you out. He fixes a mean bath.” With a wink, she left him.

The last time he saw her…he could barely remember. He sank into the water, his nose barely touching the surface. He had left that night, his mind in a fog; he had intended to see her again, he just…forgot…

Maybe he would have seen her again for her to share the news, to see the baby, to raise him alongside her. But he didn’t. An absent father, that’s what he had become. He tilted his head back, gazing at the ceiling with its elaborate gold trimmings and a mural painted of some former Emperor or whoever. He barely cared to study the history of his own home, let alone Adrestia’s. He watched as the steam rose and obscured bits of the image, and suddenly…his face…Dimitri’s face…

_**“He’s beautiful, Felix. He looks just like you…”** _

He whined this time; Dimitri’s image was completely unwelcome. “Go away,” he begged, pathetically.

“I was just coming in to give you a tunic…”

This time, he screamed and slipped along bottom of the porcelain tub, hitting his head on the edge. 

Sylvain just laughed, resting the tunic and a towel on a small, plush cushion beside the tub. He kneeled on the floor and reached into the water, helping Felix sit up. 

“I…I didn’t mean…”

“I don’t know what you mean anymore, Fe,” he said, sighing. He looked down at his wet sleeves and shrugged. He tore off his shirt and tossed it in the corner.

Felix stared; Sylvain had gotten soft in the past few years. His muscles were still there, but not as defined, and he had filled out in areas that used to be much more toned. But he still looked good, and Felix wanted to feel his chest and body against him…

“I think that’s enough bath time for you,” Sylvain said, lifting Felix from under his arms and pulling him from the grainy water. He held Felix close, running his hand along the back of his neck. “Don’t think of running away this time.” He leaned in, and placed a gentle kiss at the corner of Felix’s mouth. Setting him down to the ground, Sylvain smiled and walked out of the room. “We’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready.”

Alone again…

He reached down for the towel and quickly patted some of the water from his body, bringing it to his head to shake some of the water from his hair. He reached over for the tunic and threw it on over his head. Once he stepped out of the bathroom, he was greeted by Dorothea, who had changed into a silken gold robe. It hung low at her chest, revealing just enough cleavage to make his the tips of his ears hot.

“Well, you smell a lot better, that’s for sure.” She laughed, and it held the same hypnotic tones as her singing voice.

Felix simply nodded, but Dorothea reached for his hand and pulled him toward the end of the hall. They stepped into the room at the end, Sylvain welcoming them with a wink and a smile. He sat up on the bed, wearing a robe that matched Dorothea’s. 

“And how does it feel to be clean?”

Felix stared at the size of the bed; it was…huge. Bigger than he had ever seen. There was more than enough room for both Sylvain and Dorothea and…

“Come, join us.” Dorothea winked and, still holding his hand, led him to the center of the bed. 

The pillows were plush and soft on his back, he couldn’t help but fall in. His legs glided over the silken sheets. A bed…when did he last…?

“Someone’s comfortable,” Sylvain said with a laugh, slipping an arm between Felix and the pillows, bringing his head to his chest. 

“Good, let’s keep him that way. Maybe he’ll stay.” Dorothea slid up to his other side, nestling herself under Felix’s arm, pressing her breasts to his side.

He closed his eyes. Was this real? The three of them lay in bed, with nothing but their synchronized breaths hanging in the air. His hand rested on Dorothea’s hip; she was still soft, and so warm. Sylvain’s chest rose and fell beneath his cheek; he still smelled so good, just like that night in the stables.

His mind was calm, and he could feel sleep overcome him, but not before each of them placed a kiss on his forehead.

\---

Everything was clear and warm. Felix reveled in the first decent night’s sleep he had in what felt like an eternity. Nestled in the hold of both Dorothea and Sylvain gave him a sense of security. He breathed in deep and stretched his arms up and over his head. His eyes fluttered open, and he noticed a small body at his side. The boy…

He was immediately awake and looking around, he noticed Dorothea held the other boy in her arms and the young girl clutched Sylvain’s head. The children…

“Papa?” Xavier yawned wide and opened his big green eyes. “You’re awake?”

“Hng, Papa’s awake?” Theo wiggled in his mother’s arms, but sleep was still on his eyes.

“Seems like it,” Sylvain said in a yawn, wrapping his arms around both Felix and Xavier. He chanced a small bite at Felix’s earlobe but Felix quickly shook his head and sat up against the pillows. The whole family, in the same bed; it made sense why they had a bed so large.

“Sylvain?” Dorothea opened her eyes and stretched out her free arm.

“Morning, my love,” he responded, but he was looking right up at Felix. 

“Good morning, Papa,” Xavier sat up next to Felix and gave him a hug.

Dorothea laughed and brushed her fingers through her son’s dark hair. “Did Papa sleep well?”

Sylvain just laughed and grabbed his daughter from behind him, stepping out of bed with her sleeping frame in his arms. “I hope so.”

“Xavier, what should we get for breakfast?” Dorothea smiled, her eyes now up at Felix.

“Crêpes!!”

The other boy roused at the word and immediately awoke to jump into his brother’s arms. “Crêpes! Yes, yes!!”

“So be it,” Dorothea said, sliding out of bed. “Xavier’s favorite restaurant makes the best crêpes in Enbarr, Felix. He’s always wanted you to try some.”

The two boys laughed and joined their mother. The whole family gathered together out of bed and stared at Felix, as if waiting for him to respond.

Sylvain broke the silence, smiling and shaking his head. “Let’s get dressed and wait for Papa to get ready, okay?”

The two boys cheered and led the charge out of the bedroom. The door slammed shut, leaving Felix alone with its echo. He reached for his chest and felt the speed of his heartbeat. A son. There was no denying that boy was his son. But it all seemed so…

He looked up and noticed his clothes hanging on the back of the door. He nearly leapt from the bed and ran to gather his clothing, eager to escape. His sword…

“Shit,” he spat, tossing the tunic to the ground. Sylvain had taken it. He couldn’t leave without it.

Fully dressed, he left the bedroom and stepped into the living room where the family awaited him, fully dressed. The little girl was bobbing her head from side to side, still asleep, in Dorothea’s arms now.

Sylvain greeted him with his sword, holding it from its sheath. “Ready?”

Felix tried to swallow his groan. He grabbed his sword and situated it within its holster. Then the boy ran to him, grabbing his arm with both hands. “I can’t wait to have breakfast with you, Papa!!”

Smiling, Sylvain let the boy lead the group out of the flat, down the spiral staircase, and into the now empty opera house.

“Can’t believe this will be our last weekend here,” he said, admiring the building around him. “It’s been a nice home away from home.”

“I built my career here,” Dorothea said, her voice holding a lilt of longing. “It will be strange to perform anywhere else.”

The streets of Enbarr welcomed the group, Xavier forgoing his father’s hand to play tag with his brother on the way to the restaurant.

“Look how happy he is,” Sylvain said, hanging back with Felix. “The world just feels right when that kid smiles.”

A sour feeling was rising in Felix’s stomach; Sylvain was trying to guilt him, to hammer it in that this kid needed him. But he had Sylvain; he had been his father these past five years. Shouldn’t that have been enough? Felix didn’t know how to be a father, he didn’t know how to treat a child. 

“Sylvain, Yvi’s awake,” Dorothea said from up ahead. 

With a smile, he ran up to take his sobbing daughter from Dorothea’s arms. The two of them…they were happy. The way they looked into each other’s eyes, the way they cared for and loved their children; this life they had created, a family, together. Felix had no part within it. None of this felt right. He watched as the young girl took both of her parents’ attention and he let the crowd of the streets pass in front of him.

He couldn’t, he just couldn’t bring himself to join them.

Once he had lost sight of them among the other people on the street, Felix turned and ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much to take in!!
> 
> Some notes:   
> \- Yvi [pronounced "eevee" like the pokemon] is short for Yvette.  
> \- I wanted the childrens' names to share some of the same letters in their parents' names: Felix & Xavier (the X), Dorothea & Theo (the TH), and Sylvain & Yvette (the Y and V).
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


	4. Side Chapter: Two Years After the War... (Enbarr)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "After more than 10 proposals, Dorothea finally relented and agreed to marry Sylvain..."

The foyer of the theatre was packed with fans, clamoring to get an autograph with the diva, Dorothea. Like a phoenix, her fame after the war resurged, and not only did people want to hear her voice and witness her beauty, but they also wanted to extend their thank yous to the woman who helped bring Fódlan to a time of unity and peace. 

Sylvain smirked, knowing he would get an immediate response from her. Whether that response would be positive or negative, he would leave to chance, and to be honest, he wouldn’t mind either. 

She emerged from one of the backstage doors and the crowd erupted in screams. Dorothea greeted them with her normal grace and poise, signing posters and even offering hugs to young, aspiring sopranos and mezzos (and a few tenors and baritones). It warmed Sylvain to see her in her element; true, she was divine on stage, but her presence in front of adoring fans, her patience, her charm, showed her true colors. She truly was a star and the people ate it up. 

After a few more autographs, she looked up into the crowd and found Sylvain in the swarm of people. The mood around her changed drastically and her expression fell, her eyes revealing a sadness to Sylvan he hadn’t seen since wartimes. In fact, he could have sworn he saw wave a mild panic overcome her face.

“I’m so sorry, everyone, I must retire to my green room,” she said, shaking one last hand before waving them off. “Do return for tonight’s performance. Thank you so much for your love and support!” She turned to an usher at her side, whispered in his ear, and disappeared behind the backstage door.

“Yikes,” Sylvain said through a sad laugh. “She must really want to avoid me.”

As the crowd dispersed, Sylvain watched as disappointed patrons filed out of the theatre to a chorus of moans and groans. Sylvain, however, stayed. She didn’t usually respond to him that way. Normally, when he decided to make the trip to Enbarr for some good old fashioned culture, she would wade through the fans until it was just her and Sylvain left in the foyer. They would exchange a flirt and then a laugh and then she would grab his hand, pull him backstage to her dressing room, and…

Sylvain smiled, feeling heat rise to his cheeks at the memory. She was soft, and so beautiful. The way her voice rang when he hit just the right spot was different than how it sounded on stage. But he must have done something to ruin his opportunity to meet for another intimate exchange.

Or so he thought…

The same usher from before approached Sylvain. “Sir, Madame Arnault has requested your presence backstage.”

The memory, hot and heavy in his mind, was soon about to become reality once more. “Oh really? In her dressing room, perhaps?”

The usher dismissed the playful tone in Sylvain’s voice and merely lead him to the backstage door. “Her room is the second door on the right.”

“Yeah, I knew she missed me,” he said with a smirk, but the usher had already shut the door behind Sylvain, leaving him alone in the backstage halls of the Opera House. He already knew the way and quickly came upon her door, labeled with a golden star that read, “Mme D Arnault.” He tapped on it twice with his knuckle and within seconds, she had opened the door. 

He was hoping she would look more seductive; eyes wide, lips bright pink, her dress half unbuttoned, her cleavage inviting him in. Granted, she was still stunningly beautiful, but the apprehension he sensed before had grown. She pulled him in and slammed the door shut.

Even the mood in her room was different than their past meetings. She was pacing about the room, glancing up at Sylvain every few moments. “Sylvain, I’m so relieved that you’re here.”

“Really? Because you seem…”

She whined and fell onto her sofa. “You can tell?”

He laughed and simply joined her on the sofa. “Well, yeah,” he said, brushing a strand of her hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. “Dorothea, are you…okay?”

Slowly, she took in a breath that shuddered her whole body. Her hands sat in her lap, wringing a small bit of the fabric of her dress. “Be honest, did I…seem different on stage tonight?”

“Different?”

She sighed and let her head fall over the back of the sofa. “I…haven’t been feeling well lately. Some days, I can barely get out of bed, and when I do, I’m always sick to my stomach.” She set shaking hands over her belly as she said that and closed her eyes, continuing. “I know its affecting my performance, because sometimes, I can barely keep track of what scenes I’m in, and…”

That’s when he noticed the tears. “Hey, hey,” he said, squeezing her hand and leaning in close. “As far as I could tell, you were just as marvelous on stage as you were the last time I saw you, if not, even more. Hell, you were practically glowing on stage tonight!”

“Glowing…”

It didn’t seem to help. The tears continued to well in Dorothea’s eyes and they began to fall; she didn’t even try to fight them back. She sat up and leaned into Sylvain, practically begging him to hold her, and so he obliged. She cried into his shoulder, but he still couldn’t piece it together.

“I don’t know what’s bothering you, but I’m here. You know you can tell me anything.”

After a few choked sobs, she looked up at him, and swallowed hard. “Sylvain, I’m pregnant.”

In that moment, Sylvain felt his soul leave his body. The words he had always feared, but knew he couldn’t entirely escape. He tried to think about the last time he had seen Dorothea; the same memories that had gotten him excited earlier were now swirling in a pit in his stomach. Pregnant…

It had been a few months, right? When was the last time he was down here? He remembered how her body felt in his hands and how her voice had been just enough to send him to climax, but did he…?

“Sylvain?”

He hadn’t responded yet. He swallowed hard and looked right into her eyes, glinting with the tears that were also covering her cheeks.

“Marry me.” The words spilled from his lips without a thought. Dorothea merely sat there, stunned by the offer.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Yes, this was the moment.

He had been meaning to ask her for a while, now. His trips to Enbarr were all a stepping stone to the eventual proposal. Life in the Gautier territory had grown dull and cold and he found himself thinking of her often. It also didn’t help to have his father, nagging him to settle down with a wife to continue the Gautier line. Not that Sylvain cared much for that reason, but he knew if he took on a wife, it would be Dorothea. But this moment was much sooner than he had intended. He didn’t even have a ring for her. 

He smiled, lifting her chin with just the tips of his fingers. “Marry me, Dorothea.”

She smiled, and this one felt earnest, just like the ones she showed her fans in the foyer before. “And you’re so sure you’re the father.”

Sylvain laughed. He hadn’t honestly considered that this was the responsibility of someone else, and why couldn’t it be? Dorothea was captivating, and he knew there were plenty of other men who dreamed of sleeping with her. And Sylvain knew he couldn’t have been the only man she allowed into her dressing room.

“Does that really matter? Marry me, I’ll raise the child with you.”

She studied his face, her head tilting to the side, her brow furrowed. She smiled again and laughed, shaking her head. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “I’m a man with a lot to offer, as we’ve talking about many times before. I’d be an idiot not to ask you to be my wife. So, how about it? Will you marry me?”

He hovered his lips over hers, ready for her to respond in a kiss, but her finger touched him before her lips could. “I’m sorry, but a marriage proposal with no ring? I don’t think so,” she said in a smirk, and Sylvain was more relieved that her mood had lightened.

With a wink, he stood and grabbed her hand, lifting her from the loveseat. “Then let’s go get you one.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile refused to leave her face. She pressed herself against his chest and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “It better be big…”

\---

Dorothea had changed into a simpler dress before they headed out into the city; she had to make sure her costumes were set for that evening’s performance and she couldn’t wear them out in public.

Sylvain had, obviously, helped her change. He was careful to hang the costume on just the right hanger and put it in just the right space on the rack. But before she could don her outside attire, he just had to get his hands on her. It was at that moment, when she stood naked in her dressing room, that he noticed the small bump growing from her belly. He got down on his knees and placed a kiss on her stomach, his hands resting delicately at her hips. She shivered at his touch, but reached down to rub the area he had just kissed. 

He was tempted to slip lower, eager to taste her once more, but as his head dared to descend, she grabbed his hair and laughed. “Ring, mister,” she said, grabbing the slick black dress that was draped over her vanity chair. 

He sighed and stood up, helping her into her dress and holding her close. “That’s right, I’ve got to get you to say yes.”

“Yes to what?” She narrowed her eyes, returning to her playful manner that he loved so much.

“Marry me?”

She laughed and pushed him aside, walking towards the door. “That’s not a decision I can make on an empty stomach,” she said in response.

So it would be dinner and a ring. But he knew she would say yes; Sylvain knew how much Dorothea loved to tease, in fact, he got off on it. “You pick the place.”

She hummed and wrapped her arm within his. “I know the perfect little spot; it’s the best place after a matinée. They’re quick and don’t attract many tourists.”

Sylvain nodded and gestured down the hall with his free hand. “Lead the way!”

Though she still hadn’t said yes, Dorothea’s mood had lightened significantly. It only made Sylvain more eager for her to agree to be his wife. 

Walking through the streets of Enbarr, the pair attracted much attention and gossip. The diva, Dorothea, out and about between shows with a man on her arms. She ignored the stares and whispers, focusing instead on landmarks of her childhood and shops that catered to the performers of the Opera Company. Sylvain managed to sneak a couple more proposals on the way to the restaurant, but Dorothea would divert her attention to another landmark.

They eventually turned down an alley and snuck under a low awning into a small restaurant with only a few modest seats and tables for guests to choose. Despite the lackluster atmosphere, the smell wafting from the kitchen was intoxicating; onions and garlic simmering in oil, the juices from a fresh cut of meat. She had picked well. 

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite diva!” A large, elderly man emerged from the kitchen and enveloped Dorothea in a hug. 

“Martin,” she said, kissing his cheek.

“And who is this gentleman?” The man gave Dorothea a wink and nudge, but she laughed it off playfully and took Sylvain’s hand, guiding him towards a table.

“A friend from my academy days.”

“And another war hero?” Martin’s eyes widened as he gave Sylvain a small bow. 

“No need sir, thank you,” Sylvain said, waving off the deference as he took a seat across Dorothea.

“Take you time, you two, and let me know when you’re ready to order!”

Dorothea turned to glance over the chalkboard menu hanging on the wall, a warm smile on her lips. “Martin serves the best dishes in Enbarr. It’s a shame he doesn’t get more business.”

“I don’t know,” Sylvain said, “there’s a charm to a place like this. I like it, thanks for taking me.”

“Just wait for the food.”

It only took a few moments for Sylvain to decide what he wanted, surveying the choices on the large chalkboard. While they waited for their food, he tried to weasel in a few more proposals that Dorothea turned down, citing once more that she couldn’t make such a decision on an empty stomach.

Their dishes arrived, a modest but hearty meat pie for Dorothea and a fish stew for Sylvain. She turned her nose up at his dish.

“I hope this doesn’t deter you from saying yes later,” he joked, taking in a salty spoonful. 

“Just as long as I’m not marrying the stew.”

The two of them remained the only patrons of the shop throughout their meal, but Sylvain was thankful to have her company all to himself. They continued to reminisce of their time in the Officers Academy all those years ago, laughing and joking at the silly antics they got themselves into on their dates back then. Before long, Sylvain found his stew gone and Dorothea was dabbing her chin clean with her handkerchief. On their way out of Martin’s, Sylvain was sure to tip handsomely, in hopes that it would help the man take his business out of the alley and onto the main city streets; it was the best stew he had had in a long time.

The sun was starting to set low in the sky, and with food in her belly, Sylvain was betting on Dorothea to finally say yes. “So, which way to the jewelry district?”  
Dorothea laced her fingers with Sylvain’s and led him out of the alleyway and back onto the streets of Enbarr.

The stares from the bustling city dwellers continued and Sylvain knew the two of them would be the topic of tomorrow’s gossip. And he frankly didn’t care. He squeezed Dorothea’s hand and she giggled as they continued into the depths of the city.

“Here,” she said once they stopped at the storefront, trying to catch her breath. “Only the most wealthy of our patrons purchase their gifts for us here. The best jewels and gems in all of Enbarr.”

Sylvain eyed the marquee before him. “Adrestian Gems.” The spirit of the former Empire seemed to thrive in this part of the city, one he had once treated as a battleground. Honestly, he was surprised that the residents of the city were so welcoming to the some of the war heroes who had dismantled the old Adrestian ways two years ago. Perhaps they had resolved to accept the changes in the past few years or maybe they were rooting for unification the entire time, no matter the victor. He shook his head and stepped into the jewelers. 

The gas lamps helped the gems shine, their colors dancing against the wall, and Sylvain knew exactly which shade he was looking for. Under the glass barrier, he scanned past sapphires and rubies before the emeralds caught his eye. He smiled and leaned over to get a better look. The green gems glistened in different sizes, cuts, and shapes, but he needed one that was unique; his future depended on it.

“Looking for something in particular, my lord?”

“One that will get her to say yes,” Sylvain said, eyeing a brilliant green gem set on an intricately carved golden band, small diamonds set at every carved curve. “And I think I found it.”

“Excellent choice, my lord.” The clerk gave the ring a good polish and set it in a small, velvet box, perfect for presenting to a bride-to-be. 

After paying (more than he needed to), he stepped back out onto the street and found Dorothea, who had gathered a small crowd around her. Even outside the theatre, she was a star. He snuck up behind her and linked his arm in hers.

“Be sure to catch tonight’s performance,” he said to her fans, pulling her away.

“You are too much, Sylvain.”

“I’ve definitely spent too much today, that’s for sure,” he said, sighing. “But honestly, you’re worth it.”

He pulled her to a more picturesque spot in the city, in front of an elegant fountain with statues posed perfectly between the streams of water. There, he knelt down on his knee and produced the box from his pocket, opening it up and saying, one last time, “Dorothea, will you marry me?”

Clichéd as it may have been, it was worth it to see her eyes widen at the ring inside. The fans from earlier squealed with excitement, and onlookers stopped to witness the moment.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrist, pulling him up to her. “You’re such an idiot, Sylvain. Of course I’ll marry you.”

He laughed and brushed her hair away to rest his hand on her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. The small crowd around them erupted in applause.  
Sylvain broke from her lips to place the ring on her finger and lowered his hands to her hips to bring his fiancée in for one more kiss. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, and leaned in towards his ears. 

She paused, he breath hot on his ear, but ragged and uneven. She took in a deep breath and whispered, “It’s Felix. Felix is the father.”

The sound of his name caused Sylvain’s chest to tighten. He could feel his own tears well up, thinking of the last time he had seen Felix, over a year ago. He had left without even so much as a kiss, let alone a proper goodbye. Just a note, with little fanfare, declaring his decision to forgo his title as duke and travel the continent as a mercenary. Sylvain had never experienced a heartbreak quite like it.

He rested his hands against Dorothea’s face, gently stroking the few tears that strolled down her cheeks, and looked into her eyes, her brow furrowed with worry.

“You saw him,” he said, failing to hold back his own tears.

She closed her eyes and nodded but Sylvain just held her tighter.

Felix…Felix’s child…he would raise Felix’s child.

The two of them stayed in the square until the crowd dispersed, locked in each other’s hold, until the sun eventually faded into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this early on, as a bit of levity, and really wanted to include it with the rest of the fic. Dorothea & Sylvain need some time to shine.
> 
> I really wanted to include all 10 of the "proposals" but writing "Marry Me" that many times is exhausting. And honestly, it's just meant to be a cute/silly nod to their paired ending.


	5. Eight Years After the War... (Somewhere North)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He traveled the land, seeking battle as if he had a death wish..."

He stood there, feet parted, hands gripped tight on the hilt of his sword, and watched as the thief before him fumbled to grasp at his throat, the garbled noises taking his last words from him as the blood poured from his neck. Within moments, he fell to the ground, writhing, before he finally stilled.

Felix took a few more breaths to be certain the man was assuredly dead; he had made that mistake before and it quite nearly took his life.

That should have been the last of them. In the morning, Felix would gather his coin and be off to find the next client. He stood above the man, his blood staining the dirt around him and wondered how much the child knew of his life, knew what he did. Would he excitedly yell for Papa if he knew the bloodshed he dealt on a daily basis? Would he still grab his hand, knowing it was stained with blood? His lip quivered and he turned into the depths of the forest, hoping to avoid any and all company.

Once he was enveloped in the true darkness of the woods did he stake his post for the night. He still couldn’t bring himself to frequent many inns; the sounds of the people would irritate him too much. Besides, the bed would never be as comfortable as that night in Enbarr. He closed his eyes and remembered the warmth of Dorothea’s and Sylvain’s bodies, the tender way they held him. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t fit within their marriage. Why would they want him to be a part of what they already had, what they had spent years building together?

He could feel his head nod forward and caught it before it fell completely, but his eyes flashed open at the sound of rustling behind him. He tightened his grip on his sword, ready to strike, but an image of the child ran past him, his arms splayed open, chanting, “Papa, Papa!”

He stared in horror and after several blinks, the child was gone. This would not be a night for sleep, it had appeared. He groaned and huddled in his jacket, the chill of the night getting to him. With a glance towards the canopy of the forest, he spotted a few snowflakes falling from the sky. Snow already? How far north had he traveled? It was still early fall, judging by the leaves. He sighed and turned back to look ahead in the forest, his breath stopping the moment he did.

There stood Dimitri, in the same armor he wore at Gronder Field, the holes throughout it still fresh with blood. Unlike his final day, though, he wore a sad smile.

“You,” he choked out, trying to grip his sword through trembling hands.

Dimitri stood there, still smiling, not moving, not speaking, until the child ran past once again, crying, “Papa, Papa!” His eye followed the boy, his cheeks rising slightly in a broader smile. “He’s beautiful. Looks just like you did, all those years ago.”

“Don’t!” Felix gasped out and tried to stand, but all feeling had left his legs; it had to be the sudden cold.

“I’m so happy for you, Felix, truly I am. You’re a father…”

“Stop speaking, Boar!”

The child ran past again and stopped in front of Dimitri before turning back to Felix, his eyes wide. “The lost prince, Papa! Just like in Mommy’s opera!”

“Stop…” He gritted his teeth and tried to close his eyes, but his body wouldn’t turn from the sight.

Dimitri walked forward, through the boy, as the form of the child vanished into dust. He knelt down and reached out his hand.

“Don’t come closer, don’t touch me!”

His hand was at Felix’s chin, but he felt nothing but a cold breeze. Dead. Dimitri was dead. Long gone. This form was proof, with the wounds still seeping with blood. Those wounds…he could’ve stopped them. Could’ve saved him, if he only just…

“I wish I could touch you, Felix. It’s been so long.”

Felix stared right into that icy blue eye, it’s color more piercing than it was in life. And the tears started to flood, Felix couldn’t control them.

“I was a fool,” he choked out, reaching a hand through the form of Dimitri. “You could still be alive if I only just…”

“Don’t, Felix,” Dimitri said, his hand moving across Felix’s cheek as if to brush away his tears. “You must live for yourself. You said those very words to me the day you left to join the Professor.”

“I know, but…”

“The dead are dead,” Dimitri said, his voice said. He looked down and laughed, sadly. “You would say that to me all the time. If only I had listened to you.”

Felix wanted to grab his wrist and hold his hand tight to his chest, but he couldn’t and the thought reduced him to sobs. “I failed you.”

“No,” Dimitri said, dropping his hand to rest at Felix’s side. “You followed your own path, like you always wanted.”

Felix laughed and let his head fall back against the tree. “And look where that’s gotten me. I hardly know what day it is, what year even. I can’t stand the sight of people, I wish only to be alone.”

“You have a son,” Dimitri said, and his voice mixed with Sylvain’s in Felix’s mind, the echo of “Papa, Papa” sounding from the distance. “You must continue on. For him.”

“I don’t even know how to be a father,” he said with a tired laugh, thinking on his own father. “How do I…”

Dimitri smiled. “You won’t know until you try. But you must, Felix. Try. And live. For him. For yourself.”

“And what about you?”

Standing, Dimitri offered one last smile. “The dead are dead, Felix…”

“No, Dimitri, wait!!”

Felix rushed to his feet, but Dimitri was already gone, his image bursting into the flurry of snow that found its way deep into the forest.

His body still shook, and cold as it was, Felix could feel the sweat bead on his forehead. He dropped his sword and cried out, falling back to his knees and cradling his head in his hands. With one last sob, he choked out, “Dimitri…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A much shorter chapter, but it meant a lot for me to write this one.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Nine Years After the War...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Your life is your own. It belongs to no other, living or dead. Live for what you believe in."

The small village was bustling, considering how early in the day it was. Felix stepped out of the inn and shielded his eyes from the sun. Bright. Not a cloud in the sky.

After the recent onslaught of storms, it would be welcome, but it was still difficult for him to grow accustomed to the sunlight. He had spent so much of his life in the past few years wandering through the shadows, living mostly at night; it would take time to readjust.

He made his way down the main street of the village, passers-by waving to him and giving him a smile, another change that made him quite uncomfortable. He had decided to stay within towns and villages, getting to know the locals and guaranteeing their safety from thieves and bandits before heading off to next one. But these new routines brought more clarity to his life (along with better hygiene and diet), and after so much time rebuilding an actual life, he felt that maybe he could take on the more daunting task of fatherhood.

He shivered at the thought, but continued his way towards the blacksmith.

“Ah, Master Fraldarius, good morning!”

With a hand up and a gentle shake of his head, Felix came upon the man. “Please, just Felix is fine.”

“Haha, of course, Master Felix, of course,” the blacksmith said, clearly not understanding and turning to the wall behind him. “I’m still quite curious about your request, but here you are…”

He handed the sword to Felix, displaying the hilt and the blunted edge upon flat palms. Felix smiled; it was perfect. He had to admit, this blacksmith was the main reason he had stayed in this village for so long. He crafted excellent steel, the best he had used in years. Felix reached out and grasped at the hilt, intricate strands of teal and burgundy woven tightly to guarantee a secure grip. He lifted it and marveled at how light it was. Running his hand along the blade, he smiled. “It’s perfect.”

The blacksmith laughed, wringing a soot stained cloth in his hands. “I hardly see how a sword as blunt as that would be perfect, but I bet you could still take down a horde of thieves with it, knowing your skill. A bit short for you, though.”

Felix grabbed a handful of gold pieces and handed them to the blacksmith. “It’s not for me,” he said, and gave one final wave goodbye before heading out of town.

* * *

The moment Felix set foot in the Gautier territory, his chest grew heavy with unease. He could only imagine the resentment and disappointment Sylvain and Dorothea had felt in Enbarr when they turned back and saw Felix had disappeared from the crowd. And now he was returning, and hopefully they would see the changed man he strived so hard to become. The mercenary life was still his way, though, but an added touch of fatherhood wouldn’t be so bad.

Hopefully.

He made it to the castle; it was a warm, sunny day an oddity for this far north, but days like this existed in his childhood, when the breeze would bring a small kiss of winter to his cheeks, reminding him of the days ahead.

On a day like today, he figured Sylvain would most likely be outside in the gardens, enjoying the fresh air with the family. He took the path beside the eastern wall, covered in vines and came upon the gardens, much more lush and green than he remembered from his childhood. Dorothea sat at a table, enjoying tea while the young girl, Yvi sat on the ground beside her, playing with dolls and other small wooden figures.

Sylvain stood further out on the grounds, cheering and laughing as the two boys swatted wooden swords at each other.

For the first time in nearly a year, Felix’s vision nearly blurred as he watched the play fighting, but he managed to fight it off. He straightened his back and stood tall, yet cautiously stepped further into the gardens.

Dorothea laughed as Theo fell to the ground and rolled right back up, but she caught Felix in the corner of her eye, and her expression immediately darkened. Sylvain caught her glance and turned, both of them staring at Felix; he could feel their anger, even from yards away.

With a wave of her hand, Dorothea chanted words he couldn’t hear, but he didn’t need to. The air above him grew hot and he was lucky to dodge the burning rock that materialized above his head. He rolled onto the grass as it crashed into the ground, right where had been standing, singeing the grass by his feet.

Sylvain laughed and applauded, and Felix could hear him cry out. “You’ve still got it, babe!”

Dorothea laughed and stood up, joining her husband at his side as the two of them walked over the Felix, still on the ground, brushing the debris from his clothes.

Her spell had caught the attention of the children who ran out to see the commotion; until Xavier made eye contact with Felix. He froze in place, his large eyes widening and filling with tears, before he tore off for the other end of the gardens, far away from the adults.

“Xavi, wait!!” Theo ran off after him, his body bobbing side to side as he ran on his short legs.

Sylvain looked back and shook his head while Dorothea stood over Felix and the smokey, burnt ground.

“You can’t see him,” she said, her arms crossed over her chest.

“He doesn’t seem to want to see you anyway,” Sylvain said, an arm over his wife’s shoulder with his head still tilted back.

Felix groaned but hobbled up to his feet, standing his ground; he had promised himself he would step it up. He had promised Dimitri…

“I want to see him, please,” he said, his eyes downcast. He couldn’t blame them. For six years, he had been an absent presence in the boy’s life and the one time he showed up, he left without a word.

“No.” Dorothea was firm, her face unmoving.

“I want to see him, I want…” His fists were clenched tight at his sides, his whole body shaking. This was much harder than he had thought. “I want to see Xavier, I want to see my…my son…”

At those words, his body immediately relaxed. He looked into Dorothea’s and Sylvain’s eyes, both filled with hurt and disappointment. “I brought something for him, please…”

Sylvain sighed and rolled his eyes. “Well, Mama Bear, should we let him pass?”

“What is it?” She lifted a brow, but her eyes were still scanning over him and her stance rigid.

Felix pulled the sword from its sheath at his side and held it up for their approval. “I had it made specially for him. I…” He took in a sharp breath through clenched teeth. “I want to teach him.”

Sylvain simply laughed, admiring the sword from his comfortable distance. “Wow, so you mean it.”

“Will you leave again? And break his heart all over again?”

It felt like a scolding from his own mother, but her protective nature wasn’t without reason.

“Not like before, but…”

He couldn’t face the life he had already left. He was a mercenary now, he wouldn’t undo that part. He would still travel and fight, making a living cutting down bandits. But perhaps having a place to call home, somewhere he could rest, a designated spot, would be a welcome addition. He had hoped, at least. “I want to be there for him. I’ll still have to make my coin, but…”

“But you’ll give proper goodbyes? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, I mean…” Felix shut his eyes tight. “I’ll come by, spend time with him between jobs. I…I want to. Please.”

Nothing but the wind seemed to answer him at first, but eventually, Dorothea sighed and finally moved her feet. “Fine, whatever,” she said, walking back to her tea. “But understand if he doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore.”

“You know, Fe, he…” Sylvain dropped his head, his hand moving to catch a stray tear budding from his eye. “You hurt all of us. But Dorothea and I? We're used to it, honestly. He’s just a kid.”

“I know…”

“And I hate seeing him upset like that.” Sylvain’s voice rumbled low, in a threatening tone not familiar to Felix’s ears. He looked up and his eyes bore into Felix. “Don’t upset my kid like that ever again, Fe. You understand?”

Felix nodded, sheathing the short, blunted sword and walking onto the grounds. He remembered how wide and expansive they were as a child; the tricks and games he would play with Sylvain, how Ingrid would run back to the castle to tell on them, and those odd moments where he would try to comfort Sylvain after a fight with Miklan. It took years to cross these grounds as a child. And now, it felt like an eon.

He swallowed hard as he saw the two boys crouched low to the ground behind a spread of trees and bushes. He brushed some of the branches aside and Theo looked up with a gasp. Xavier stayed still, his small hands over his head, shaking.

“Um…” Felix didn’t know what to say, but Theo bolted back towards Sylvain and Dorothea, leaving Felix alone with his son. The child whimpered and nudged his body away from Felix. He wanted to laugh, as the boy only made it so far, but he knew that wouldn’t be right. Instead, he knelt down, keeping his distance.

“Xavier,” he said. The name was still foreign on his tongue, from years of not knowing. But he had to fix that. He breathed in and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

It barely came out in a whisper, but it was loud enough for the boy to perk up his head, his eyes red and raw from crying, his cheeks wet.

“I…” There was no excuse, but he had to be honest. “I didn’t even know you until last year, and honestly…”

He shook his head; the kid wouldn’t understand. “I promise I won’t leave again. Not like that, at least. And I want you to forgive me, so…”

He gripped the sword and pulled it from its sheath and the boy’s eyes widened, his mouth agape.

“This is for you.”

His little hands reached right for the hilt and he smiled wide when he held it in front of him.

“I’m gonna teach you how to fight. Not like how your mother does in her operas, but for real.”

More tears started to well from the boys eyes. He dropped the sword to the ground and lept towards Felix, arms spread wide to wrap around his waist. “Thank you, Papa!!!”

Papa…

It was still new, but he could get used to it. He held a hand over Xavier’s head, patting it. He was without words, but he didn’t need them. In one swift motion, he grabbed the sword and picked up the boy in his other arm and emerged from the clearing, back onto the grounds. Sylvain stood there, shaking his head but smiling. Dorothea clapped her hands together in front of her face, suppressing her own tears.

“What do you know,” Sylvain said with a laugh.

Felix put Xavier down and handed him the sword back, but not without a warning. “Now, don’t use it until I’ve taught you properly. That’s real steal, and even though it’s blunt, you can still hurt someone.”

Xavier nodded aggressively, tears still streaming from his eyes. “Yes, Papa.” He stood there and took a few moments to spread his feet and grip the sword with both his hands.

Felix laughed, for probably the first time in years, and walked over behind his, fixing his grip. “You want to make sure you can control your sword well,” he said, moving the boys hands at just the right spacing. “Like that, see?”

He stood up and took his place across from Xavier. But before he could begin his next lesson, the boy screamed. “Mommy! Daddy! Look!! A real sword!”

Both Sylvain and Dorothea had walked closer, the other two children clinging to their legs. “I know! It’s great,” Sylvain said, clearly humoring the child.

“Be careful, baby, don’t get hurt.”

“Don’t worry! Papa’s teaching me!”

Felix wasn’t sure how much that would reassure his parents, but he continued. He demonstrated a few parrying moves for the boy and had to move behind him to make sure the angle of the sword was just right.

“Now, I’m gonna come at you,” he said, trying to speak slow and clear. “You’re gonna block, okay?”

The boy nodded. He was such a small target, but Felix knew what he was doing. He charged forward and brandished his own sword. Xavier stood there and immediately closed his eyes, gripping the sword tight and shaking. Felix lowered his sword and the moment the steel clashed, he was thrown back with a force, like the Goddess had punched the air and sent him flying back.

He landed on the ground with a thud, his arms splayed and his sword tossed to the side.

Sylvain laughter seemed to fill the whole gardens, but Xavier had run over, more tears streaming from his eyes, his sword long since discarded.

“Papa, papa!! I’m so sorry! I don’t know what happened!!”

Felix sat up and looked up at Sylvain, his brow furrowed. “I thought you said none of your kids had a crest!”

Sylvain continued laughing, nearly doubled over, while his other two children looked on, slightly confused. “I said they didn’t have _my_ crest, you idiot. Xavier has yours.”

Felix groaned shook his head, letting Xavier cry into his chest; quite a lot of tears for one day. “I’m fine, Papa’s fine, you’re just…really strong.” He laughed and patted the boy’s head.

In moments, the tears had subsided and he was smiling wide, hugging Felix tight. “Not as strong as you, Papa!”

* * *

Felix made sure to stay for dinner, though he couldn’t finish. The meals of nobility were richer than he remembered, but he was grateful for the full stomach. The three of them each put a child to bed that night (though everyone still got the even round of good night kisses). Xavier held Felix’s hand as he guided him through the stone walls towards his room, Sylvain’s old room.

It was odd that his own son was teaching him how to tuck him in good night, but he welcomed it. After a few more conversations about swords, Felix pressed a kiss to Xavier’s forehead and patted the bed sheet on top of him. “Good night.”

“Good night, Papa…”

The boy closed his eyes and turned away, settling comfortably beneath the sheets.

“Didn’t think you had it in you,” Sylvain said softly, leaning against the door frame.

Felix shook his head and stood up. “I don’t even know how to do the simplest thing, but…”

“You’ll learn, we all had to.” He walked up behind Felix, his hands on his shoulders. His hold was firm and the second he dug his fingers into Felix’s back, Felix could feel his knees weaken. “Come on, he’ll be fine. You gave him a sword.”

Sylvain laughed and grabbed Felix’s hand, dragging him out of the room and down the stone corridors of the castle. It was dark, with only a few sconces lighting the way, but it was comforting all the same. Felix hated admitting that he missed home, but he did.

Sylvain led him into the room at the end of the hall, two large double doors that opened to the main bedroom of the castle. Dorothea sat upon the bed, already dressed in that same golden robe from the opera house when he saw her last. Her legs dangled over the edge, crossed at the knees, and Felix couldn’t look away.

“Well, you got ready quickly!”

She laughed and tossed her head back, her dark hair cascading down her back. “Yvi falls asleep so quickly, I don’t understand why you have such a hard time with her.”

Sylvain groaned and left Felix’s side to join Dorothea’s on the bed. He rested his head on her chest and wrapped his arms around her. “She always wants a story from me! Honestly, Theo tuckered himself out going on about how much he wants a real sword now.”

Both of them looked right at Felix, a gaze of parental disappointment in their eyes.

“Hey, I was trying to…”

Sylvain laughed and reached out his hand. “We’re teasing, Fe, teasing. At least I am…”

Dorothea sighed, but held her hand out as well. “I must admit, I’m a little concerned, but since you promised to teach him, I suppose it’s okay. You are his parent as well, after all.”

Parent…

The word seemed to swell in his chest; it would take a long while before he fully accepted the responsibility of it. “Right…” Slowly, he walked towards the bed, almost as big as the one back in Enbarr, and they both grabbed him, pulling him in and falling back onto the bed. Both Sylvain and Dorothea laughed, but Felix squirmed in their hold. He wiggled his way out and stood back up, huffing. But then he had noticed that Dorothea’s robe was askew, revealing her bare breast, and his face went hot.

Sylvain got up and pressed his forehead up against Felix’s, resting his hands at his waist. “I think you deserve a treat tonight, Fe. For finally stepping it up.” He gripped tight and leaned down to kiss Felix, soft at first then increasingly more desperate.

Felix immediately gave in, craving his touch, anything after years of sporadic moments. He pressed his hands against Sylvain’s face, his sideburns tickling his palms. His eyes closed and Sylvain tilted Felix’s head back, giving himself more space for his tongue to explore.

Suddenly, Dorothea was at his back, her arms wrapped around his waist, mouth hovering over his ear. “Thank you,” she said, kissing the shelf of his ear. “Thank you for coming through.”

He tried to nod, but Sylvain had him under his command. Someone’s hands were undoing the buckles of his pants, another’s were slipping under his shirt. Both their mouths now pressed to his neck, and Felix allowed it, reveled in it. His shirt was lifted over his head and tossed to the side, his pants slid down his legs, and he gladly stepped out of them. Four hands worked at undoing his under clothes. Their voices intertwined as they nearly chanted his name, undressing him, painting his naked body with kisses, his feet moving somewhere until he was upon the bed, Dorothea standing up in front of him. She untied her robe and it fluttered to the floor behind her. She pressed a knee upon the plush mattress and hovered over Felix.

With a hand pressed firmly against his chest, Dorothea pushed Felix back onto the bed and straddled his waist. She reached below for his cock, and gently ran her fingers over it before she began to grind up her body up against it. Sylvain was right behind her, hands on her hips, helping her ride along with letting Felix inside. At least, for now.

Felix could only stare, the heat in his cheeks rising with that in his groin. Sylvain bit and nibbled at Dorothea’s neck; he knew exactly where to to put his lips to get her to moan just right. He slipped his hand between her legs, and continued to guide her along Felix’s length, while his other hand found comfort on her breast.

Sylvain was hard; Felix could feel him bump up against his ass. There was so much happening; Felix wasn’t even sure what he wanted at the moment, but it didn’t matter; every time he tried to reach up, Dorothea would push his arms back down. “We’re just getting started, Felix,” she said, licking her lips that were instantly sealed in Sylvain’s mouth.

“That’s right…”

“But I think he’s ready, dear,” she said, her voice low and husky, her thighs trembling at Felix’s side.

Sylvain nodded and let his fingers spread Dorothea open so she could descend upon Felix’s cock.

Felix took in a sharp breath as his tip pressed up into her, Sylvain’s fingers leading him in; his chest began to heave, his fingers digging into the sheets. His mind started to go foggy once more, but he was in the moment. He couldn’t leave it…

Dorothea arched her back as she took in all of Felix, her hands gripping his waist.

He noticed the little white marks on her stomach and reached out the them, tracing them with shaking fingers; she was too busy to push him away now.

Sylvain smirked and brought his hands to Felix’s thighs. “Can’t let you two have all the fun,” he said, prodding Felix with this thumb.

Felix’s head fell back against the pillows as Sylvain pressed into his hole, pulling him open and slipping another finger in deep. His cock throbbed and Dorothea moaned in response, rocking her body over him.

“How was that, darling?” Sylvain latched his mouth onto Dorothea’s neck, his free hand practically cradling her breast, the pink of her nipple between his fingers. His other hand continued to spread Felix open and both of them cried out in response. He smirked and situated himself behind her. “Good.”

Felix’s legs shivered as the head of Sylvain’s dick pressed up against his readied hole and pushed in. His back arched as he pressed deeper into Dorothea, his hands shaking at her hips. He glanced up, Dorothea’s head tilted back and Sylvain continued to paint her neck with dark red marks. He met Felix’s eyes with a wink and pushed in deeper, until he was fully sheathed and his balls were pressed flush against Felix’s ass.

He slipped his hand between his wife’s legs and felt how deep Felix was inside. He smirked and slipped out to thrust in against, both Felix and Dorothea crying out in pleasing moans. With a finger pressed to her clit, he steadied his rhythm and all three of them were rocking and thrusting about on the bed.

Felix was entirely filled, ready to burst with just Sylvain inside, but Dorothea kept tightening around him, Sylvain’s fingers practically guiding him in and out. His chest heaved and he could barely keep control, the sounds of the their bodies grinding against each other, the chorus of their voices crying out. Felix’s fingers dug into Dorothea’s hips, anything to stop the shaking. Her hair practically blocked Sylvain from view, but he worked expertly around her and was the true puppet master of the evening. Every time he rocked deeper into Felix, he would push up into Dorothea, and in due time, he was ready to come. He bit his lip, trying to control himself.

“Sylvain, I…”

“Don’t even think about get my wife pregnant with a fourth kid.”

Dorothea’s hand reached up and gripped Sylvain’s hair, pulling him down. “Let him,” she gasped out, her breasts heaving up and her legs twitching at Felix’s sides.

“Yes, dear,” he said with a sigh, and gave a few final thrusts into Felix.

His vision nearly blacked out, his hands slipping over sweat soaked skin, and came in bursts, rocking into Dorothea one last time as she cried out, pulling Sylvain down to latch onto her neck.

Sylvain kept moving into Felix, his hands busy to finish off Dorothea and soon he came as well, filling Felix to the brim and collapsing up against Dorothea’s already limp form. Soon, the three of them were all upon the bed, nothing but their breathing filling the room.

Felix’s head was pounding, the most intense pleasure he had felt in years. His body practically melted onto the bed, the sheets softer than he could have imagined.

Sylvain was already up, gathering their clothes from the floor and grabbing a clean cloth to wipe them all up.

“You better be here more often if she does pop out another kid, I’ve been so careful, Fe.”

Dorothea laughed and twirled stands of Felix’s hair in her fingers. “You talk as though you hate our children, Sylvain. What’s wrong with a fourth?”

Sylvain climbed over her, his hand gently hovering up her thigh and he wiped her clean between her legs. He kissed her beside her mouth, still open with laughter. “I do love them, my dear, but they can be…so exhausting.”

She laughed once more and kissed him square on the lips, gazing into his eyes. “That’s quite true, but…” And they both turned to Felix, their eyes practically boring into him. “We’ll have some extra help, won’t we?”

Felix swallowed hard and looked straight up to the ceiling. He had just gotten used to the idea of being a father. He closed his eyes and gripped the sheets. “I…”

“Fe,” Sylvain said, rolling to his other side and dragging the cloth over him to wipe him clean. “One sword won’t do it…”

“I know!” He yelled louder than intended. Taking in a deep breath, he kept his eyes closed. “I know, I want to be more present, but…”

It was silent. He didn’t know how to put his thoughts into words, and he couldn’t disappoint them more than he already had.

“I can’t just…walk back into a life like this.”

“We’re not asking you to, Felix,” Dorothea said, her voice carrying the sort of scolding quality of a mother. “We just want you to be here with them. With us.”

“You don’t have to give up your way of life, you know,” Sylvain said, petting the wet hair from his brow. “Just be here for them. And consider Gautier your landing zone between fights or whatever.”

He swallowed hard and opened his eyes, nodding. “Yeah, I can…I can do that.”

“Please,” Dorothea said, cupping his hand in hers and placing kisses along his knuckles. “For us. For the children.”

“I will,” he said, feeling the weight lift from his chest. Both Dorothea and Sylvain kissed him on opposite temples and settled beside him. He felt the glide of the sheets slip over his body and he finally felt like he could rest.

* * *

Felix hadn’t slept that soundly since the last time he saw Dorothea and Sylvain. He awoke the next morning in a similar state to that time in Enbarr; Xavier clung to his side with the other two children wrapped around their other parents. But this time, he was able to smile. He rested his hand on Xavier’s head, running his fingers through his hair, thicker than his own. The child stirred and gave one big yawn before looking up with those big, green eyes.

“Papa,” he said, smiling wide and gripping Felix’s side tight from on top of the sheets.

“Morning,” he said, trying to keep quiet, but the other children stirred at his voice and crawled over to him away.

“Papa’s awake?!”

“Good morning, Papa!”

Overwhelming as it was, he welcomed the tiny hands wrapping around his arms and prying him from sleep; perhaps waking to this every morning was precisely why Sylvain bemoaned a potential fourth child.

Sylvain stretched his arms up and over, resting them behind Felix’s head, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. “Well, Papa,” he said with a wink, “good morning.”

Xavier laughed and crawled over Felix to hug his other father. “Daddy!”

“Hey kiddo,” he said, wrapping his arms around his eldest and wrestling him into a hug.

Dorothea turned on her side, tugging at the sheets and gathering them towards her.

“Shh,” Yvi said, holding a chubby finger to her lips. “Mommy’s still sleeping.”

Sylvain nodded and sat up. “That she is. Already, kiddos, let’s go have some breakfast with Papa!”

The children cheered loud enough that Dorothea grabbed a pillow to cover her ears. And the moment Sylvain stepped out of bed, they all yelled and laughed.

“Daddy’s naked!!”

Quickly, Sylvain ran across the room and tugged a robe on, hastily tying it in front. “Alright, alright, I get it, come on, let’s go.” He ushered the children off the bed and towards the door, tossing another robe over to Felix. “Come on, Papa, let’s get ready for breakfast.”

Felix held the robe to his nose, taking in the lingering scent of Sylvain before slipping it on and stepping out of bed. He followed Sylvain and the children out of the room, but not before looking back at Dorothea, who was smiling at him from under her pillow.

“You’ll stay today?”

He nodded, gripping the edges of the oversized sleeves in his hands. “Yeah,” he said.

“Good.” She closed her eyes and settled back to sleep. “I’ll join…later.”

He smiled and followed the footsteps down the hall, spotting Sylvain standing with open arms. He walked right into them, resting his head on his chest as Sylvain embraced him.

“You don’t know how much this means to him,” he said, rubbing his hands up his back. “To all of them. All of us.”

He looked up, reaching a hand to catch a stray tear falling from Sylvain’s eyes. “I’m ready,” he said and with a nod, Sylvain kissed him, only breaking away to say:

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around! While this chapter marks the end of this "story," I have more side chapters in mind of shenanigans with the children and some sweet Dorovain moments. Might not write/post those for a while, but I'm not entirely done with this just yet. But "Wilted" is complete.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! And say hello on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/thnkurluckystar) if you'd like!

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by several paired endings and conversations with Felix on Silver Snow/Verdant Wind routes. More to come, thank you for reading!


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